


Transformers RiD2015: Nature of the Beast

by MiniKoontzy



Series: Nature of the Beast (Season 1) [1]
Category: Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Multi, Re-Write of RiD2015
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniKoontzy/pseuds/MiniKoontzy
Summary: Stranded on Earth, in need of help, Bumblebee makes a plea to the spirit of his former leader. The help he gets in answer, however, is not quite what he was expecting: a temperamental private detective from Kaon, a meek Praxian law officer, a pacifistic trainee medic, a planetary astronomer, an amiable Altihexian ne'er-do-well, and a reticent Predacon with a chilly yet protective demeanor. Even his friend Smokescreen who arrives with them is left dumbfounded about the choice. Why them, they wonder? Why not their old teammates?What slowly becomes clear is that the prison-break might not be the main problem on Earth. A bigger, older danger is looming just out of sight, one mostly forgotten. Legends, it turns out, tend to have some truth to them after all - the good and the bad types.
Series: Nature of the Beast (Season 1) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768075
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Living on a Prayer (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-write of RiD2015, but it is also a rewrite of the original Nature of the Beast series on my Fanfiction. Nothing major is changing from the original. I'm rewriting the original for a few reasons. Better overall writing, some additional info, episodes that aren't split unless they are multi-parters, better characterization for some of the villains, and better use of tone. I'm changing a couple things from canon episodes at the start as well, as this is technically an AU-rewrite.

* * *

Being in over his head and outnumbered was nothing new to Bumblebee. That pretty much summed up his entire experience during the War. But this wasn't the War, and this wasn't the experienced team he had had then. Strongarm was an inexperienced cadet; Grimlock was an ex-convict who, while strong, wasn't exactly a tactician; Fix-It had decent experience. But Sideswipe in particular – he wasn't supposed to be there all. He'd been dragged into this by happenstance. Now, a bunch of greenhorns were all trapped with him in a scrapyard light years from home and help, surrounded by possibly hundreds of escaped convicts from the Alchemor prison-ship. They were learning, sure, he wouldn't deny that, but in his optics, they were not learning nearly fast enough considering the danger. Sideswipe in particular consistently didn't appreciate that danger, either.

Jazz's arrival a few days back had helped a little, but there was no telling when he'd get back home to report about the mess; his ship was parked halfway across the country, and he needed to gather as much intel as he could along the way. Magnus needed as much info as possible to assess the situation, with which Bumblebee agreed. The more Magnus knew, the better. Of course, Drift showing up to collect a bounty on his head not even a day ago really kind of served to hammer home just how much of a mess this was. Apparently, Drift had been told by whoever had hired him that he had run off with hostages after illegally breaking into the Iacon spacebridge hub. While the latter was objectively true, the hostage thing definitely wasn't. So Drift had left to clarify to his employer that the bounty needed to be canceled. As kind as that was of him, it didn't really solve the bigger mess they were stuck with. It also didn't solve the unnerving mess of rival hunter Fracture being stuck on Earth with them, who was seriously peeved as all get out they'd stolen and gutted his ship to use its groundbridge.

"Mess" really didn't feel a strong enough term to describe the situation he was in.

_CHANG!_

Bumblebee let out an exasperated groan. "Speaking of messes..."

He knew that noise by spark now. Sideswipe had probably started something with Strongarm. He would have to check on them soon before it had the chance to evolve into a full on fist fight between the two. But, as much as he badly wanted to, he could not pull himself away from the antique mirror in front of him. If anything, the ongoing argument back in the commons just convinced him to stop stalling awkwardly and go for it. He was running out of options – and patience, for that matter. He needed help, even if he wound up looking like a crazy person asking for it from a mirror. The mirror wasn't really who was going to try to talk to anyway. It was who tended to show up in the mirror that he desperately needed to talk to.

"Look," he started. "I have no idea if this is going to reach you, or if you can even hear me at all – I still don't understand how this system works – but I'm not proud. I need help. Please. I can't do this on my own. We can't. We're outnumbered out here. Come on. You talked to _me_. You sent _me_ here. Can't you do that again and send us some backup? Someone who's actually qualified to be dealing with this mess? Because I'm not. I don't know why you thought I was. And _they_ definitely aren't," he finished, pointing towards the commons.

No familiar red and blue figure appeared. All that stared back at him was his own bright yellow reflection.

"Please. _Please_ , send help," he quietly begged. 

Bumblebee waited for another minute but, when no figure appeared still, he sighed in defeat, helm hanging. Maybe the "channel" or whatever wasn't open right now. Maybe it could only be opened from the other side.

A low noise forced his helm back up. He recognized it as a gentle roll of thunder, one that had stemmed from a thunderhead amassing on the other side of the bay. Some hopeful (maybe somewhat fanciful) little part of him interpreted it as an answer. It sounded, after all, so much like the low rumbling voice of Optimus. But it was impossible to translate a rumble of thunder. He could only hope that it was a sign of assurance rather than a warning of the storm that was ready to unleash on them all.

And maybe a sign to get a move on and separate Sideswipe from Strongarm before he got hurt.

"Hey!" he shouted as he emerged into the commons. "What did I tell you about bugging her?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Sideswipe protested, currently held in a headlock by the cadet.

"Yes, he did!" snapped Strongarm. "He was poking me while I was trying to read!"

It took all his effort to hold in his exasperated groan. He was beginning to feel less like the guy in charge, or even a cop, and more like an over-qualified baby-sitter.

"There is no way we were _this_ bad around you..." Bumblebee mumbled to himself.

"You say somethin'?" Grimlock wondered as he lumbered in with another pod.

"What? No. Nothing," he lied.

Grimlock shrugged, dropped the pod off for Fix-It, and thudded over to join Bumblebee while Strongarm and Sideswipe kept bickering.

"Y'know, I could sit on him for a bit if you want," offered the Dinobot cheekily.

Bumblebee put a hand to his chin, "Tempting..."

The Dinobot got an even cheekier look in his bright optics. Grimlock thudded over. Without so much as the noise as a warning, he grabbed Sideswipe who he then slung over his huge shoulder like a misbehaving sparkling.

"Hey! What gives, Grim?!" the red youth demanded, pounding on his back. "Put me down!"

"Nnnnope!" his burly captor cheerfully grunted.

The Dinobot proudly stomped off with his shocked, frustrated prize.

Strongarm was left staring in surprise. "That's not the usual protocol for dealing with an unruly civilian but –"

"But it works," laughed Bumblebee.

"Very effective, too, I might add! Hm! If only subduing one of these escapees were that simple!" smiled Fix-It.

Bumblebee glanced the little mini-con's way. "Speaking of which, has anything shown up on scanners yet? Any beacons or activity?"

Fix-It checked the _Alchemor's_ alert system and then shook his head. So far, everything was blissfully quiet – well, except for Sideswipe's loud complaining, of course.

Out in the distance, the storm rumbled again.

"Don't get comfortable," warned Bumblebee as he eyed the distant thunderhead. "I don't think it'll last."

* * *

A knock came on an otherwise innocuous office door. The golden and silver Praxian mech at the meticulously organized desk didn't respond; he was too deep in his analysis of the case files given to him by his precinct – so deep that he hadn't realized the sun had set outside. But the bright, warm glow of the lights above coupled with the stacks of datapads on the desk or on nearby shelves always tended to fool the young officer into forgetting the passage of time. His work was important, not just to him, but to the people he helped. Crime was a sordid affair but at least he could help get the answers other 'bots needed.

The door opened to permit a rowdy looking mech with a precinct badge on his upper arm. "I'm headin' out, Counterforce. Ya stayin' late again?"

The mech at the desk only half-way lifted his head up. "Hm? Oh, yeah. I'll be here for a bit longer, Flint."

"As usual," the rowdy Canyonite mech, Flintlock, chortled.

Counterforce glanced up briefly with a wry smirk. "I need to finish up a few things, alright? These cases aren't going to file themselves, you know."

"Here are the keys, then," Flintlock said, and tossed a pair of encryption cards to him.

Counterforce caught them without even looking up.

"At this rate we oughta attach a key ring to ya," teased Flintlock. "Or build a berth in here for ya to power down on."

The young mech at the desk looked up with a deadpanning yet humorous expression. "Oh, ha-ha. Very funny."

"Maybe your boo can share that berth with you, eh?" teased the mech in the door.

Counterforce rolled his strange heterachromatic optics – one silver, one gold. "Oh, shut up, Flint. She's not even in town."

Flintlock chuckled, "Aw, c'mon, I'm just teasin'. Have fun burnin' the midnight oil, pal," tipping his hat-like helm extension to him.

"See you," he waved.

The door shut, and the building fell silent.

Once he resumed work cataloguing all the data from ten past cases, time slipped by again while the cube of bright red _taoth_ on his desk started to drain. But with all the information sitting in his processor, his whole system began to get sluggish. Counterforce folded his arms on the desk and let himself slouch forward. He must've powered down briefly, because he woke with a start – he wasn't sure why. He didn't hear anyone, and no alarms had gone off, but his chronometer said a breem had passed since he had fallen under: time enough for someone to have gotten into the building. Even without evidence to prove it, it was just enough of a suspicion to fully rouse him off the desk and out of the chair. From two hooks on the wall he grabbed his issued weapons: twin scimitars of bright golden energy. With them in hand (and the precinct key cards) he crept out into the empty, darkened hall.

He checked and the sealed the evidence lockers, the labs, the data archives, weapons lockers – anything that might be tampered with by an intruder.

None of them had been.

He still kept on alert regardless. Maybe it was his own suspicious anxiety but it _felt_ like someone was in the building.

Then, he heard footsteps.

He gasped, shuttered his optics, and spun, blades crossed up defensively. Bright light exploded out from his entire body.

"Who's there?!" he demanded.

"Fracking _thanks_ , boyscout," a familiar female voice huffed. "Now I can't ruddy _see_!"

He opened his optics, surprised. In front of him, the air shimmered like a heat mirage to reveal a lean, pitch black Seeker femme with bright red accents and burning yellow optics – and she was not happy. Her lips were curled into a half-frown, her arms were crossed across her chassis, and one digit tapped against her plating in irritation.

" _Sentenza_?!" he gasped. "Primus, I'm sorry, if I'd known it was you I wouldn't have – Hold on, woah. Wait. What're you _doing_ here? You never told me you were in town!"

"Tracking. Which I can't do because you ruddy _blinded me_ ," she reminded him tersely.

He cringed, "Sorry, sorry! It'll fade. Just – just give it bit."

"I don't _have_ 'a bit', boyscout!" she growled. "My target probably is already a klick away now!"

"Target?" Counterforce repeated, bewildered. "What target? There's no one in the building except us."

Some of her anger ebbed into curiosity. "You mean you didn't see it?"

"See what?"

She groaned and dragged her hands down her faceplates, "You're hopeless."

"Look, tell me what it was and I can help you find it."

Sentenza took a deep intake of air before explaining: "I'm not sure _what_ I'm tracking. All I know is that wherever it goes, stuff gets messed with. Power systems, computers, datapads, anything like that. It started when I was over in Kalis about a deca-cycle ago, so I put all my eyes on alert. All information says its here in Praxus now, and my projections say its going west."

"That doesn't really help in terms of a description, Sen."

"I'm _getting_ to that," she snapped. "The only time I ever spotted it, it looked like a shimmer in the air or something. I assumed I had to be dealing with a camouflaged hacker running around testing various systems for weaknesses. Or, I don't know, maybe a careless mischief maker who doesn't realize they could cause a disaster by messing with the wrong system."

"And you thought this potential hacker came into this building?"

"I saw your office light on when I arrived. Thought I'd check with you. You weren't having any system issues?"

He shook his head, "No. The most issue we had here was a software upgrade about an orn ago, give or take."

Sentenza stamped her trod down, "Frack!" Her optics briefly flickered red.

"Hey, easy," he soothed. He held on hand up that shone like a lamp.

The Seeker's temper quieted. "Sorry. I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

He smiled, "Let me lock up the back doors. Your optics should be re-calibrated by then. Then we'll go hunt down this mystery hacker of yours."

She smiled wryly, "Thanks, boyscout. I'd offer to help to make it go quicker but, well, y'know," she pointed at her optics.

"I'll be quick."

In short order he came running back down the hall; Sentenza's quick about-face told him her optics had recovered enough to see again. He quickly left a note on his desk to Aegis that he'd be out of the office for a while, then locked his own office door. They both sprinted for the main front door, which he then locked behind them both.

"You said you think this target is heading west?" Counterforce asked.

"As far as my projections indicate, yeah."

"Directly west?"

"Well..." Sentenza brought up a hologram. "Not _directly_ , obviously, not a straight line, but their path so far is extremely consistent. Kalis, the Sonic Canyons, Vos, now Praxus, with no veering off too far north or south. If that pattern holds –"

"Kaon or Iacon is next," he realized with some dread. "That's not exactly a short drive, Sen."

"D'you have a better idea?" she shrugged.

Counterforce briefly considered unlocking to use the precinct's console for a groundbridge into one of the Iaconian or Kaonian precincts, but decided against it. They didn't know for sure if that's where this whoever-it-was was actually headed. They'd know for sure only if they followed it from the ground, where they could continue to track its progress.

He sighed, "...you _so_ owe me a cube of _taoth_ for this when we hit Kaon."

"I'll add some _pi'jofre_ as a bonus."

"Deal," he smiled. "I'll follow your lead, then."

Sentenza smiled, leapt, and transformed. Her red running lights flashed at him once before she took off westward.

"You're paying for it though!" she called back.

"Wha? HEY! _You_ dragged me into this, Sen! _You're_ paying!" Counterforce shouted as he roared after her.

* * *

The hot summer season in Altihex almost always resulted in fewer 'bots out during the heat of midday. Most were content to stay indoors or in the shade to wait for the cooler evenings; any who were out and about, even while working, were still taking it easy.

For one particular resident, that overall languid attitude all meant one thing: _fun_.

" _Wooo!_ "

A flamboyant streak of fiery red and orange roared down the main road through Altihex. It wasn't often that Backdraft could clock one hundred kilometers per hour in the usually crowded downtown sector – not without his rapid lane-weaving attracting a small parade of prickly cops, anyway. But with the roads now mostly empty, most Altihexian cops were laid back enough not to go charging after him, which left him free to cut loose for a little while.

Backdraft peeled wildly onto another main lane that took him towards the outer sections of the city. Way ahead, some roadway construction was underway: a new overpass, still incomplete. The two ramps that would hold the pass held nothing but open air at the moment, which gave Backdraft an idea. Blaring his horn, he gunned his accelerator. With a holler of pure delight he shot up off the ramp and went flying into the air at breakneck speed.

Mid-air, he transformed, struck an intentionally silly pose, and then transformed just in time to stick the landing on the opposite ramp.

"Aw, yeah! Woo!" he hooted. "You guys saw that, right?!"

He heard some of the workers shout and hoot back at him.

From there, he headed towards the city's outskirts. His buddy Hijinks would totally have some crazy ideas for pranks on a slow day like this.

He checked behind him briefly to find no one had chased him. But when he looked back –

"WOAH!"

There was someone standing in the middle of the road who hadn't been there a moment before. Backdraft hit his brakes hard. In an attempt to slow down even quicker, he transformed, only to tumble and skid forward flat on his faceplates. But rather than lie prone, the youngster hopped up and shook himself off, seemingly not much the worse for wear save for a few scratches.

"Hoo! Sorry about that, I –" and then cut himself short.

The figure standing in front of him on the road was one he'd seen before, in images on the global data-net. But the problem is that the figure in front of him wasn't supposed to still be around: the last of the Primes, Optimus. The guy was supposed to be _dead_. Even the conspiracy nutters online were sure about that fact.

"Uhhh...'kay?" Backdraft said slowly, looking around. "Hijinks? Are you pranking me right now, bro?"

No answer. No laughter. Not even a snicker. The Prime's expression remained the same.

"...Am I in trouble?" he hazarded somewhat nervously.

In answer, the Prime turned to the northwest and pointed. Curious, Backdraft lined himself up with the limb and peeped around it, trying to figure out what he was pointing at. Far as he could tell, he wasn't pointing at anything. The only thing to the northwest was empty horizon.

"Go," rumbled the apparently-not-dead Optimus. Or ghost. Ghost was more likely.

"Go? Go where? I can't tell where you're pointing, mate."

"Iacon."

"Iacon?" he repeated, baffled.

"Go."

Without another word, the Prime vanished in a faint flash of blue.

Backdraft spent maybe about two kliks debating the order. Then, he heaved a mighty shrug, transformed, and roared off back in the direction of Altihex. As much as he was down for a good road trip, he wasn't about to drive _that_ far. Maybe that one super nice cop chief, Fast Lane, could give him a 'bridge to Iacon instead...

* * *

Around a massive red giant star, a lone navy star-ship, long and sleek, hung in synchronous orbit. Across its starboard side were emblazoned bright silver cyberglyphs that, when translated, read: _CERF Tieyeian Bolt._ On the outside, the ship was as quiet as space itself, its powerful rear boosters shut off. On the inside, however, the ship was a different story.

For a scientific vessel, Smokescreen mused, the _Bolt_ certainly had its quirks – like the rock music currently coming from the ship's bridge. He'd learnt to expect that, contrary to what many might think, music on the bridge meant one thing: the ship's captain was hard at work. And indeed she was. On the otherwise empty bridge, a tiny, night-sky blue Avioid femme covered in little diodes bobbed her winged head to the beat. In one hand was a datapad filled with math and notes, in the other hand was a stylus, and up on the holo-display were countless live readings from the dying star they were orbiting.

Captain Zodiac was a very strange femme. Then again, so was everyone else on the ship. It's what he liked about her crew: he had never had to worry about getting bored.

She must've heard him come in over the music though. One tap of her tiny trod shut it off.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" the Elite Guardsmech asked a bit sheepishly.

The little Avioid stowed her stylus and turned to face him. "Nah. Was nearly finished with this round. Lots of good readings."

Smokescreen glanced out the front windows. "And, uh, why are we orbiting a dying star again? Isn't that a little, y'know, risky?"

"It's not gonna blow up on us, you ditz," she deadpanned back humorously. "Did you not pay attention to Shatterveil's briefing?"

"Okay, to be fair," he protested, hands up defensively, "it's not exactly _easy_ to know what Riddler is saying, Zoe. I wasn't trained to analyze poetic verse. I'm also not a scientist."

Zodiac smacked a hand to her silver faceplates and rolled her optics. "And you didn't think to just – never mind."

"So?"

She pointed out the front window, "We're in orbit around what we suspect is a rare hybrid class star called a Thorne-Żytkow Object. This star used to be part of a binary system until the companion star went supernova and formed a neutron star. Readings have shown the red giant is producing large amounts of the elements lithium, rubidium and molybdenum, which are all elements that red giants can't make naturally under normal conditions. So we think the red giant absorbed the neutron star, possibly without destroying it – the abnormal magnetic field certainly seems to indicate that – and impacted the nuclear fusion process."

Smokescreen gave her a blank look. "Say that again, but like...slower."

Zodiac smiled and clarified in a teasingly slow voice, gesturing with her hands as she explained in much simpler terms: "Red giant star ate neutron star. Neutron star makes red giant have indigestion. Comprende?"

"And that's a big deal...why?"

"Because they're _super freaking_ rare! It's only the second we've _ever_ found!" she gushed excitedly. "Because of how they form, they only exist for a few hundred thousand years or so before the giant goes _bang!_ – then there goes our field study!"

"So we're parked around what is basically the rarest star in the universe," he realized.

"Yup!" confirmed Zodiac, beaming. "Isn't that cool?!"

"Yeah, okay," he laughed, "that's pretty cool, not gonna lie."

A beep drew the captain's attention. She flitted over to the control console. "Hm?"

"What is it?" he asked.

"A transmission?" she muttered. "Hold on."

She brought up the transmission, which was a written message. However, the writing wasn't shifting to the dialects the CERF used like he'd seen it do thousands of times before.

"...That's weird," the astronomer noted. "The ship isn't auto-translating. Maybe it bugged out?"

But after a minute and a half of waiting, the writing remained unchanged. He got the feeling it wasn't a bug. The _Bolt_ was a well-oiled machine thanks to the chief engineer.

"Hang on, hang on, I think – I sort of recognize some of that?" Smokescreen stated as he leaned in. "That glyph, right there? (he pointed) it's an old Iaconian one for 'friend' I think."

"You can't read any more of it?" wondered Zodiac.

He shook his head, "No. Sorry. I only learned some old words so I could help Trion sort stuff." He jolted and a grin appeared. "But you know who could read it?"

Zodiac snapped her digits, "Hearsay! Hold on, I'll go get him!"

In a gust of wind the little Avioid zipped out of the bridge. She re-appeared with the little mini-con linguist clutched in her claws. Hearsay was dropped gently on the control console.

"Can you read this?" demanded Zodiac.

Hearsay took a moment to be bewildered before turning to the mysterious transmission.

"Is that? By the Allspark, is that Silver Age Iaconian dialect?" gasped Hearsay. "I didn't think anyone bar linguists like myself knew how to write that anymore, not after the Hall of Records was sacked during the War!"

"What does it say?" Smokescreen and Zodiac urged together.

Hearsay stood up and leaned in. "It says ' _A friend is caught in dire straights. Go. Help. You are needed._ ' And right there, just next to it, is a set of coordinates on Cybertron (it's labeled as such by the way) which I'm _pretty_ sure are for somewhere in Iacon. That's...all rather ominous, I gotta say."

"Is that glyph under it a signature? Does it say who sent it?" asked Smokescreen anxiously.

"It's not even a name," Hearsay clarified perplexedly. "Just a single letter. O."

"Oookay, who else is super freaked out right now, raise your hands?" Zodiac asked, then raised her hand.

Hearsay and Smokescreen followed suite.

"The tone used sounds pretty urgent, captain," continued Hearsay. "I'd hate to pull out of a mission that isn't a hundred percent done but –"

"If a friend of ours is in trouble, that's good enough reason to bail a little early," Smokescreen declared. "It's your ship though. What do you think, Zoe?"

Zodiac answered by flitting over to the control, taking the wheel, and turning the ship around. The ship then lurched as its engines kicked into high gear to speed them to the nearby temporary spacebridge. On approach, Zodiac was brisk and business-like, which meant to him that she was _extremely_ freaked out. Even the spacebridge operator caught the twinge of anxiety in her voice, but when asked, Zodiac told them that they were coming back a little ahead of schedule. The _Bolt_ had suffered some minor system issues and she had brought it back to port to make sure it didn't get worse at exactly the wrong time. Though the operator offered to send the _Bolt's_ assigned techies, Windstorm and Tweak, to look into it, Zodiac assured them that they didn't need to. Jumpstart and Combustor could fix it in house.

As the ship pulled into dock at the Hydrax Plateau, Smokescreen checked out the window towards Iacon in the east. He couldn't see any signs of major trouble.

"Cap'n?" came the voice of Zodiac's SIC, Jackdaw. The normally jovial Corvian mech looked baffled. "What're we doing back in Iacon?"

"Emergency. Weird transmission. Friend in trouble. Gotta check," she chirped as she downloaded the coordinates. "Can you handle things here?"

Jackdaw nodded, "Sure. I'll hold the fort. Do what you gotta do."

Zodiac darted out. Smokescreen was forced to sprint to keep up. She was definitely freaked out; not even trying to hide it anymore.

He transformed and sped after her. "Zoe," he urged into his comm. link. "Zoe, chill. Come back here and hitch a ride so you don't lock up and crash into someone's face. Please."

The Avioid fell in with his suggestion. Her tiny talons touched down on his canopy. He could feel her shaking.

"We'll check with Magnus first, okay? If anyone we know is in trouble, he'd be the first to know."

Zodiac chittered once: agreement.

But when they arrived at the Guard Headquarters in Iacon, Ultra Magnus was just as baffled as they were when they told him what had happened. It wasn't long before concern swiftly etched itself into his normally stoic faceplates.

"A transmission warning of someone we know being in danger?" he repeated. "No one is in danger as far as I'm aware. Unless...Jazz went to investigate something peculiar. One of the prison ships, the _Alchemor_ , stopped transmitting location data recently for unknown reasons. Coincidentally, this was noticed not long after there was a troubling fiasco with Bumblebee about two deca-cycles back."

"Oh, Primus. What happened?" That was one of the downsides of being on away missions with Zoe into new sectors: recent news was pretty slow coming in.

"He broke into the spacebridge hub with a cadet and a civilian and disappeared. We have heard nothing from him or the cadet, Strongarm, since. The officers who followed them to the hub could not determine where he had gone; the location files seemed to have been purged directly after use. How, exactly, and by whom is not known. What they did note for certain, strange as it sounds, was that he was flustered and behaving strangely. One swears he heard him talk to empty air, addressing it as Optimus."

"What – you're not saying he randomly lost his marbles, are you?" gawked the younger mech.

"No. Odd behavior does not equate to insanity, Smokescreen. I will say that, knowing what I just told you, it is noteworthy this mystery transmission was signed 'O'. Both Orion and Optimus start with the same letter. The word choice in the message does sound akin to the way Optimus spoke, as well. Incidentally, he _was_ versed in that particular dialect, too."

Smokescreen took a step back from the desk. "Are you saying...?"

"I am not saying anything at this juncture. I am merely stating evidence and analyzing it."

Zodiac's optics went round. She went on to report that, as if all this wasn't freaky enough already, the coordinates in the message were for the exact same Iaconian spacebridge hub that 'Bee had disappeared in.

Ultra Magnus cocked an intrigued brow ridge. "Then that merits investigation. Zodiac, I know I cannot command you in any official capacity. On the other hand, seeing as the message came to your vessel, can I trust the two of you to monitor the location over the next day or so? Quietly, if you would."

Smokescreen saluted. "Yessir!"

"Nothing will happen without me seeing it!" Zodiac declared proudly.

"Good. I'm counting on that, captain."

* * *


	2. Living on a Prayer (Part 2)

* * *

_One Day Later..._

It was quiet in Windstorm's Crystal City lab, and the young engineer preferred it that way. No outside distractions always made it easier to focus on all the data streaming around him like his own personal display feed. So when an unscheduled ping came to the dark blue mech's workstation, he was momentarily irked. He had very strict hours when others were allowed to call during the workday; that someone had the audacity to ignore his schedule was mildly offensive. But, quickly, curiosity got the better of him. He deactivated the ability, set his tools aside, lifted the magnifying eyepiece from his visor, and leaned over to check his console. A request had been put in from the Iaconian branch of the CERF. Captain Zodiac's ship was reportedly in need of standard upkeep after its latest away mission. They had arrived back slightly ahead of schedule though, which was unusual. But perhaps a problem had suddenly arisen, or threatened to, prompting that early return.

Leave it to Captain Zodiac to note a potential problem _before_ it became a genuine one, he thought amiably. Always one step ahead, that clever little astronomer.

After gathering his tools, he rose, left the lab, and went down a few doors. He knocked. The doors hissed open. A grey and military green mini-bot femme, her backstrut to the door, was chatting happily on her comm. link while she worked on a long, complex stream of code.

"Tweak, I'm needed in Iacon," Windstorm told her.

Tweak spun 'round and pulled up the fancy display goggles to reveal big, equally cheerful blue optics. "Is something wrong, Winds?"

He smiled, "Not at all. Merely routine maintenance on the _Bolt_."

"Well, you don't need me, then!" his colleague laughed. "Call me though if you encounter any code problems! Don't steal my job from me!"

"Naturally," he nodded. "I should be back later this evening."

"Have fun!" she waved.

He left his colleague and headed for the Academy's groundbridge hub. En route, he caught something move just around the edge of a corridor. However, as today was an off-day for most everyone on the campus, the building was almost entirely empty save for a few professors and committed students who weren't wont to roam. Intrigued, he rounded the corner, expecting a familiar face – only to find that, aside from him, the corridor was empty.

"Hm! Strange."

Windstorm dismissed it before continuing on his way. Only, it happened again around another corridor's edge. There was no way it could be a trick of his optics, not when the odd phenomena was repetitive. What was truly bizarre was that his scanning equipment could not identify it; it acted as if nothing at all were there, yet his optics insisted there was. Thoroughly intrigued at that point, he picked up his pace to give chase. Though unable to keep pace with it, the phenomena seemed to be guiding him on to where he was already going: the groundbridge hub. However, upon reaching his destination, the visual phenomena abruptly ceased. The hub itself was empty save for the lone operator leaning against the controls, visibly bored.

"Excuse me," prompted the engineer as he trotted over to her, "did you by any chance see something come in here?"

The operator femme eyed him. "Aside from you? No. Why? Did something get out from one of the bio-labs?"

"No, no. Idle curiosity. Nothing more. Could I have a 'bridge to Iacon, please? I've been requested."

"Hydrax Plateau, as usual?" she astutely guessed.

"Yes, please."

"Give me a klick."

The operator input the coordinates for the CERF's main docking location. The portal opened on command.

He offered a polite bow and his thanks before striding in. On the other side, the Hydrax spanned out in front of him, where only a handful of other ships were currently docked. The smaller _Bolt_ was docked near the western edge, always easy to spot due to its unusual avian bow design. He let himself admire his work as he walked up the boarding ramp. However, the chief security officer guarding the entrance, Epsilon, seemed quite surprised to see him.

"What're you doin' here?" the burly rhino of a femme demanded.

"Routine maintenance. I received a request...?"

"Hm," she grunted, then gestured him in. "Check in with Jackdaw. Cap's not here at the moment."

He nodded and pressed on. It was not so very strange for the captain to be absent from the ship, and her SIC was a genuinely pleasant individual. But, like Epsilon, Jackdaw was also quite surprised to see him. Maybe more so.

"Windstorm?" Jackdaw cried. "What the scrap are you doing here?"

"Epsilon said something similar," Windstorm noted. "You were not expecting me? I received a request to come."

"...What request? We didn't send a request," the Corvian SIC told him, baffled.

"You didn't?"

"Nope." Jackdaw's brows furrowed. "Actually, gimme one sec."

Jackdaw opened a line to the spacebridge operations hub and asked if anyone had sent a request to Windstorm. None of them had.

"But the message came from the Iaconian CERF!" cried Windstorm. "How can –?!" then he blinked. "A forgery? Why – why would someone send a fake request to me?"

Jackdaw threw his arms up in an exaggerated shrug. "I dunno, mech, but we had some weirdness happen to us too. Well, specifically to the cap'n and Smokescreen. They _also_ got a strange message, actually, warning about a friend o' theirs being in danger or something. We dunno who it was from though. They ran off to look into it."

"How very odd. Should I report this, then?" Windstorm wondered of the other mech.

"Wouldn't hurt. Personally, I'd take it to the Guard instead of the cops, seeing as this spans two cities."

"Sound advice. I will do so."

"Stay safe, nerd," said Jackdaw as Windstorm left.

Windstorm did not wait around. He went directly to the Guard headquarters and then directly to their Commander. Ultra Magnus's telling of events matched what Jackdaw had mentioned. The only difference was that the other message had been far from inconspicuous, like his was. The Commander's question to him about his message, when it came, was exceptionally interesting: he had not been told to go the Iaconian spacebridge hub?

"No, sir. I was not. All I was provided was a fake maintenance request for the _Tieyeian Bolt_."

Ultra Magnus leaned back in his seat. "So someone lured you here as well...with far more skill..." he muttered.

" _Lured?_ " repeated Windstorm. "By who? For what purpose?"

"That is currently unknown. In light of that, would you mind remaining in Iacon until further notice, Windstorm?"

Windstorm let himself be bewildered at the request. "Ah, I-I don't exactly have a place to stay, sir. I didn't plan to be here overnight, much less indefinitely. I didn't arrange anything. I suppose I could ask Jackdaw if I might stay on Zodiac's ship if –"

The older mech cut him off, "Actually, Windstorm, I would prefer you stay here, on site, and nearby, in case this turns out to be more dangerous than it looks."

"An understandable concern, sir," he conceded, "although I do hope I'm not imposing on your officers by agreeing to your request."

Ultra Magnus assured him that he wouldn't be. If he needed a quiet place to recharge for a short time during his stay, he was free to do so in his quarters or in those of his SIC Jazz, who was currently away. He didn't expect Jazz to be back for some time, he clarified, as he was investigating what he now suspected in hindsight was another unusual incident possibly connected to these strange messages. On the off-chance that Jazz did return sooner than expected, he would arrange to have him stay in the barracks; Jazz's quarters were more secure and therefore safer for Windstorm.

"I – why, thank you," gasped Windstorm, taken aback at the generous offer.

"If you receive any further unusual messages, or see anything strange, please alert me right away. Otherwise, you are free to do as you please here."

"Of course, sir. Thank you."

Windstorm gave another half-bow and left.

Ultra Magnus leaned back in his seat again, deeply puzzled, staring at the closed door. No part of this situation so far appeared dangerous, but he could not shake the nagging feeling someone was, in fact, in danger – and that the "someone" might be Bumblebee. But then why would a Crystal City engineer be involved?

* * *

A door hissed open in another building in Iacon, a clinic. On the threshold, the smiling forest green femme, a Cybertronian photoharp magnetized to her hip, held the door open for her limping giant of a patient, his upper leg enclosed in a brace.

"Alright. You're good to go, Brawn. Just keep that brace on your leg for the next deca-cycle, and try to stay off the leg as much as you can. You need to give that hip-stack repair time to cement."

The bigger mech grinned back, "Thanks, Charity. Will do."

The femme, Charity, a medic in training, smiled and helped him through. She then hit a dial beside the door to indicate to the chief medic the room was free for another patient to use, and proceeded to wander down the halls, a datapad full of patient files in hand. She didn't need to look up from the device to know where she was going; after so long in the clinic she could probably find her way through it blindfolded. Another medic headed in her direction simply walked around her as though they were water flowing around a river rock, no questions asked.

A request came in on the datapad to restock some supplies in the operating rooms. She signaled back that she would do so.

Upon entering the storage bays in the clinic's back areas, her eyes still on the datapad, Charity squeaked upon hitting something large that shouldn't have been there. Her first thought was that someone (Roundhouse) had done a lazy job of organizing the crates again. When she looked up, the datapad fell from her hand with a gasp.

It wasn't crates she'd bumped into. It was a mech: a big red and blue giant with kindly old blue optics. Charity had seen the figure before, at the memorial near the Well, cast in monotone metal alongside some of his allies: Optimus Prime.

She tried to say something. All that came out was a squeak.

The giant stooped, grabbed the datapad, and handed it back to her. She took it and quickly backed away, startled, her hand going for the door panel.

It didn't open.

"Please, do not panic, Charity," the Prime urged. "The door is only locked to prevent interruption."

"You know my name?" she breathed.

"From what I have heard, your patients speak very highly of you," he smiled, "which is why I have a request to make of you."

"Request?"

"A dear friend of mine is in danger, stranded without a medic. Would you be willing to help him?"

"Surely Knockout is more qualified to do that," she gasped.

"I believe you would be the best candidate."

"W-Where is he? This friend?"

The Prime pointed a faintly glowing hand to the datapad in her own hand. Curious, she looked at it. As she watched, new information was input: coordinates for somewhere in Iacon, followed by another set of coordinates whose location was less certain to her.

"Go there," he told her while the first coordinate set highlighted itself.

"What? But I can't just leave, I'm on duty right –"

When she looked up, the storage bay was empty again.

The young medic stood staring, overwhelmed and confused. Then, her wide jade optics changed. She turned and sprinted out the doors, through the corridors, paused long enough to grab her tools from her office, and out into the main lobby.

"Cherry?" the receptionist on duty cried as she swept past. "Where are you going?!"

"Emergency call! Tell Knockout I'll be out of the clinic for a bit!" she called back.

The young medic dashed out the doors, transformed into a sleek two-wheeled form, and headed for the coordinates. Someone being in danger, without medical help, was not something that she in good conscience could ignore. That information coming from the spirit of a Prime of all people, well – double reason not to ignore it.

* * *

Far outside Iacon, a lone Predacon, a saber-fanged white wolf, paused on his daily patrol route to sit and listen. As a hunter scout for the Well Guardians, it was his task to check their borders for possible threats. But, as he had found no trouble along his route, and the rescue crew he worked for in Iacon, the Underminers, had not alerted him to any problems within the city, he could afford a short break to simply appreciate his surroundings. So few did.

On the east wind, Frostbite caught the smell of strangers. Then, his ears pricked. A sound had come in, distant but distinct: engines.

He turned towards it for better detecting. One came from high in the air that he could see as a dark dot hurtling through the sunset sky. The other came from on the ground. In time, they came into better view. In the air was a pitch black aircraft highlighted by streaks of glowing red. Below it drove a golden and silver vehicle, obviously following.

Both screamed past out in the east, towards Iacon.

Frostbite rose and growled. That black aircraft he recognized as the Kaonian femme Sentenza; she often came to his tribe to hire trackers for cases. Any time she passed into their territory, she would give the correct notification on their comm. lines.

But she hadn't.

His ears pinned back. That was the first time she had _ever_ failed to give the proper notice.

Something was wrong.

* _Predaking_ ,* he reported over his line.

* _What is it?_ *

* _Trouble. Possibly. Iacon. Sentenza passed through edge of east sector. Did not notify._ *

* _If it is not concerning your crew, Frostbite, it is not your business. Sentenza's business is her own._ *

Frostbite whined. His crew was in Iacon. He had a duty to the city's people by that relation. Was he supposed to sit by and let a problem start? What if he could prevent it? Sentenza would not have neglected to signal, nor gone through so quickly, if there was no problem.

Predaking growled on the other end. He could almost see him pacing.

* _Very well. You may investigate. But I expect you back as soon as you determine what the problem is and correct it._ *

* _Gutz ov. Agreed._ *

The white wolf took off in the direction of Iacon. Halfway to the city, he let out a chilling howl to alert the people of his approach. As such, no one gave him trouble when he bounded into Iacon at full speed. Other 'bots on the road were nimbly avoided; some even politely yielded to him. All he had to do was follow his olfactory sensors: Sentenza's body smelled gently of soot from Kaon, implying she had passed through or near to her home city.

He gave a few barks whilst chasing her golden companion down. Rather politely, the stranger slowed down. Only once he was closer to the stranger did Frostbite note something even odder: there was Praxian badge on the doors. What was a Praxian officer doing all the way in Iacon?

"Ah, sorry," the stranger, a mech, said. "Why are you following me?"

"Ah, scrap me. Sorry, Frostbite!" Sentenza called down. "We went through the edge of your tribe's turf so quick I didn't think to ping you! My bad! By the way, this is Counterforce. He's with me!"

He barked up at her. Was something wrong?

"We're following someone. D'you think you can help us out?"

* _Can,_ * he told her simply. * _Hunt what?_ *

"This individual has gone through multiple cities. Do you smell anything out of place?" asked the Praxian.

* _Too many smells. Narrow down._ *

"Sen! Any alerts from your contacts here?" Counterforce called up to her.

"None right now. We may have beat – _there!_ " she cried. "Right there! I saw the shimmer!"

The Seeker dove towards one of the buildings so fast that she careened into someone else he didn't recognize right at the doors: a deep blue mech with bright yellow optics. Both tumbled into the doors in a tangle of limbs. Frostbite and Counterforce raced into the doors to check on them.

"Scrap! Sorry!" apologized Sentenza after untangling herself.

"No, no. The fault was mine," the other mech insisted, helping her up. "I heard you coming but did not react in time to avoid you."

"Are you two okay?" demanded Counterforce.

"I'm quite alright. Are you?" the stranger asked Sentenza.

"Nothing's hurt. Except maybe my pride," she admitted. "Look, wish I could stay and talk, but I gotta go. Sorry again!"

She sprinted further into the building.

"No, wait, Sen! Don't – ugh," grumbled Counterforce. "Sorry about her. She's rather distracted right now. Who're you?"

The stranger, giving a quaint little half-bow to them both, introduced himself as Windstorm of Crystal City.

"Crystal City? What are you doing in Iacon, then?" the polite Praxian wondered.

Windstorm cocked his head to one side. "To be honest, officer, I'm not quite sure."

"What do you mean you aren't sure?"

"What's going on in here?!" a new voice demanded.

Two 'bots came rushing in from outside. One was an Elite Guard lieutenant, Smokescreen, the other was a Sky Painter Avioid, Zodiac. Both Frostbite knew rather well, albeit mostly by indirect means.

"I saw whoever hit him run further in! Lemme go get 'em!" squawked Zodiac.

The Avioid zipped off in hot pursuit. Not even two astroseconds later, Sentenza came back down the hall shielding her head with her arms to avoid Zodiac's aggressive pecking.

"Alright, _alright!_ Knock it _off_! I get it!" Sentenza snarled.

"Sentenza's with me. It's alright," insisted Counterforce.

Zodiac quickly left her alone. Smokescreen went from alarmed to confused.

"What are all you people doing here? Well, not you, Windstorm. Magnus already told me about you. But what are you doing like, here-here? In this building?"

"Look," Sentenza stated impatiently, "I'm kind of in the middle of tracking someone down in here. Can we walk and talk?"

Smokescreen agreed. As each explained, his expression only became more confused. He paused at a corridor intersection to hem. Frostbite had to admit he was similarly confused. Smokescreen and Zodiac had a message themselves, prompting them to return ahead of schedule. Windstorm had gotten a false maintenance request, and upon hearing about an unusual spacebridge malfunction after going to the Guard to report it, he had come to the hub to see if he could figure out what was wrong.

"Okay, this is getting _really_ weird," declared Zodiac.

"Agreed," nodded Counterforce. "Two mysterious messages, a mysterious hacker, and both lead to the same exact place?"

Frostbite's ears pricked. More engines had entered the building. Moving fast.

* _MOVE!_ *

The white wolf-former quickly tackled Windstorm and Smokescreen out of the way, and not a moment too soon. Two two-wheeler vehicles, one green, one fiery red and orange, slammed into each other. The green one recovered and transformed first, revealing another familiar face to Frostbite: Charity, a trainee medic. He had never been in her clinic personally but some of his tribe mates had, and they had had nothing but praise for her.

"O-Oh my gosh, are you alright?!" gasped Charity, kneeling over the other crash victim.

"Charity? What're you doing here?" demanded Smokescreen, stunned.

"Smokescreen? I –"

"WOO! That was _awesome!_ Do it again, do it again!" the other vehicle crowed before transforming into an equally flamboyant individual with peculiar, slit pupils in his optics like those of a reptile.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Charity repeated.

"I'm fine!" the other mech insisted, hopping excitedly while his arms gently flailed about. "That was _fun_!"

"Ookay," Smokescreen started slowly. "Aaand who're you?"

"I'm Backdraft! From Altihex!" the mech chirped cheerfully. He massaged the back of his neck awkwardly. "Heh. Sorry 'bout the crash. I got a little ahead of myself."

"I'm just glad you're not hurt," smiled Charity.

"Same to you!" Backdraft grinned.

"What are _you_ two doing here?" pressed Sentenza.

"Ah, this is going to sound a little strange but...Optimus Prime told me to come here...?" answered Charity slowly.

"I'm sorry, what?" gawked Smokescreen.

"Hey! He told me to come here, too!" exclaimed Backdraft. "He just pointed all dramatic, told me to come here to Iacon, and then _poof_! Gone! Super weird, right?"

Smokescreen's expression was stunned. Frostbite also detected some hurt in his expression.

"The poof thing happened with me, too, but his directions were a little – well, a lot, actually – more specific. He told me someone, a friend of his, needed my help in my capacity as a medic, but didn't tell me who. Also, there's a second set of coordinates he gave me. The problem is I don't know where they're for...?"

"Do you have them?" Counterforce asked.

"Yes. Right here." She handed him a datapad.

Upon being unable to recognize the coordinates either, the datapad was handed off to the Crystal City mech. Windstorm's expression changed quickly from puzzled to downright intrigued.

"Now _that_ is unexpected," noted Windstorm. "I'm not surprised you don't recognize them, Charity, because these are not coordinates for anywhere on Cybertron. These are galactic coordinates. Very specific ones, I might add. Hyper-accurate."

"Galactic?" everyone repeated.

"And we're in a spacebridge hub," Counterforce realized slowly. "This is sounding less like coincidence now and more like arrangement. Zodiac, Smokescreen, I think you mentioned your message was signed with the letter O – as in, maybe, Optimus?"

Smokescreen admitted that Ultra Magnus _had_ brought that possibility up when they'd talked. He hadn't really thought he was being serious about it though.

Zodiac nudged him and whispered: "Hey, remember? Magnus also mentioned that Optimus's name came up just before 'Bee disappeared in here. Maybe he got similar orders. Maybe he even got the same coordinates Charity got?"

Smokescreen looked up at the ceiling with an accusatory expression and jabbed an equally accusatory digit. "You're up to something. What're you up to?"

Unsurprisingly, the ceiling gave no answer.

"Windstorm, do you know where those coordinates are for?" Sentenza asked.

"I wouldn't be able to say exactly unless I put them into a spacebridge system. Seeing as I need to investigate a potentially faulty one here, we might as well start there."

The engineer strode off in the lead. Frostbite tailed behind everyone, on the alert for any more new arrivals. None came, however. He would have turned around, having not gotten a message himself, but he was too curious at that point. Predaking had given him permission to stay until "the problem" was resolved – a problem that was beginning to look much bigger than a few mysterious happenings. Until Frostbite had his answers, he would guard their flank.

* * *

"Interesting. Very interesting."

Just like Ultra Magnus had said, the arch in question had been disabled. Thin strips of metal crossed the empty space under the arch just to be sure no one could go waltzing in easily. But Windstorm's focus was on the controls, which he had pulled out of its lockdown state. While not a coding expert like Tweak, he knew enough to see why Ultra Magnus had suspected tampering. It was brutally obvious even to a laymech.

"What?" wondered Sentenza.

Windstorm typed while he spoke, "I'm no expert, of course, but I can tell that someone, somehow, wirelessly scrambled and then promptly scrubbed this 'bridge's location input logs. Not just the most recent one, either – _all_ of them. Like a blunt force factory reset, only harsher."

"That smells like tampering to me, alright," agreed Counterforce. "Why?"

"Hang on. If 'Bee used this on Optimus's orders like we think, why would he scrub the 'bridge afterwards?" Smokescreen demanded.

"Maybe he didn't want a small gang of freaked out cops following him and making a bigger mess?" shrugged Backdraft. "I kinda feel that."

"But if he's the one I'm supposed to help, doing that would strand him unnecessarily. That doesn't make any sense!" cried Charity.

"Okay, then what about the coordinates Charity got? Can you input those?" chirped Zodiac from atop Windstorm's head.

Windstorm did. His optics widened. "My, my. That's...not quite what I was expecting."

He had the display of the galaxy zoom in on the coordinates which, perhaps in hindsight unsurprisingly, had a match already in the main database: a small rocky planet in the Sol system, out in the Orion arm. The label below it read: _Terra-Sol_. _Local Designation: Earth._ Windstorm knew of the planet, too: one of the CERF's interstellar allies, the human-run IASO, was based on Earth.

Sentenza leaned in as though to convince herself she wasn't crazy. "What the –? Earth? Really? Why is he sending us out into the galactic boondocks?"

"Earth. Should've guessed, really," said Smokescreen in a certain deadpanning humor.

"But IASO hasn't alerted us to any problems out there!" Zodiac cried, confused.

"Neither has Unit E," noted Smokescreen, brows furrowed.

"I wonder if that means they don't know about it..." muttered Counterforce, eyeing the display, "which could mean it may be small or localized enough it's not gotten onto their radar yet."

"Or..." hemmed Sentenza, "they might be keeping it quiet to prevent a panic or uproar. Isn't that how the world governments here handled things during the War?"

Counterforce smirked at her, "Point taken."

"Well...I guess there's only way to find out for sure," the Elite Guardsmech realized rather warily. "Windstorm? Can you input those coordinates into a working 'bridge?"

"I certainly can."

Windstorm quickly created a spacebridge for them in another working arch in the room.

"Me first, me first!" cheered Backdraft.

"No Backdraft, wait!" urged Charity. "We don't know where it lets ou–"

The young Altihexian mech whooped before transforming and jumping into the portal.

Smokescreen couldn't help laughing. There was something admirable about Backdraft's cheerful eagerness in the face of uncertainty or possible danger. He kind of reminded him of Miko that way.

"Well. I guess we better go after him," shrugged Sentenza, "if for no other reason than make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

Windstorm bowed and gestured to the others, "After you. I'll enter last to ensure no one tries any more wireless tampering."

Smokescreen rain first, followed by Counterforce and Sentenza together, then Charity. Frostbite hesitated momentarily before running in. Out of habit, Windstorm input a message into the system for the sake of the Elite Guard Commander, concise but informative: _More 'bots appeared._ _Gone to Earth. Mystery leads there._ After setting the spacebridge to close automatically in fifteen kliks, Windstorm brought up the rear and existed. He took a few paces forward only to collide with Smokescreen who had run back towards him.

"Don't auto-close, don't auto-close!" he belted out as he ran for the portal.

The spacebridge closed just as he reached it.

"Scrap! I forgot to tell Magnus where I was going!" he bemoaned.

"No need to worry," Windstorm told him. "I noticed you hadn't. So, I left a message on the console for him. When you fail to report in, he will go to your last known location and find it."

Some of his panic died down. "Oh. Okay. That works, too, I guess."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the engineer, an unseen hand began to interfere with his message. One by one the words were deleted. The coordinates soon disappeared, too.

"Oh, what _fun_ it is to meddle..." a voice chuckled gleefully.

* * *

"Woah! Look at all the color!" gasped Backdraft.

"It's beautiful," breathed Charity.

Frsotbite was admiring it too – the sheer variety of color below the hilltop was almost dizzying – when something dripped onto his snout. The drops kept coming until they struck everywhere on his body. The rain was just cold enough to sting a little, reminding him of the acid rain back home.

Backdraft thought the same. "Ah! There's no cover! What do we do?!" he yipped nervously.

Windstorm calmly held a hand up to let water pool in his palm. "Backdraft, the rain's pH is 5.6. That's perfectly safe."

The youth stopped his frantic running. He blinked. "Oh. So. Like. What do we do now?" He then hollered loudly, arms splayed: "Hey ghost-dude! What do we do now?!"

In answer, thunder rumbled and the rain turned into a downpour. Backdraft's arms stayed up for a moment, then dropped to fold across his chassis. His expression went humorously sour.

"Is he trolling me? Because this feels trolling..." the now drenched youth grumbled through a smirk.

Smokescreen and Counterforce both laughed.

"First," the former said through a smile, "we get out of the rain. Come on. Head for the trees over there."

"Race you!" he challenged.

"Okay," Smokescreen agreed, no rush in his voice. "One, two, three, go!"

Backdraft tried to sprint, only to slip on the wet terrain flat onto his faceplates. One hand went up to give a thumb's up. "'M good," he mumbled, still face-down.

Smokescreen snickered and helped him up. "Take that as a lesson not to run on wet grass."

"Good lesson," declared a grinning Backdraft.


	3. Living on a Prayer (Part 3)

**Nature of the Beast**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

The early evening rainstorm passing overhead had forced Denny and Russell into shelter. But, save for a now-grumbling Sideswipe, none of the other resident Autobots were much bothered by the water. At the _Alchemor_ _'s_ controls, Fix-It continued his monitor duty while simultaneously running live diagnostics on the ship's systems. He wasn't about to take chances with the rain; he had frankly had enough trouble with the ship so far without water seeping into the exposed electrical components. His repairs were decent and would keep for a while – not that that was any reason to get complacent when the materials he had to work with were substandard.

"My kingdom for a skilled repairbot," Fix-It muttered.

He was readying to make a long mental list of just how many more repairs still needed doing when the console made a noise. Curious, he enlarged the holographic display for a better look. His curiosity piqued further still. The scanners _had_ indeed picked up a Cybertronian signal, but it was not one the _Alchemor_ was able to identify as one of its prisoners. There was no identifier beacon at all, just a single, solitary signal on the edge of the ship's scanning range. But before he could run a detailed analysis of the signal, it disappeared back out of range.

Fix-It's optics narrowed. "Hm."

"What?" wondered Bumblebee.

"Oh! An unidentified signal appeared briefly on scanners."

Bumblebee cocked his head to one side. "You don't think the scanners bugged out because of the rain, do you?"

"No, no. It was definitely a Cybertronian signal. It wouldn't have been detected otherwise."

It was Bumblebee's turn to be confused and curious. "Where did it come up?"

"About sixty kilometers due south-east, deeper into the foothills," reported Fix-It, pointing for clarity's sake.

The yellow mech lifted his head to stare in that direction. Fix-It could see him debate and consider what exactly the _Alchemor_ had detected. Was it dangerous? Friend or foe? Was it even anything to do with them? Perhaps Jazz's report had prompted other Guardsmechs or Council observers to arrive to better assess the situation. That was fairly standard procedure if he recalled.

"Let's wait for the storm to let up," he decided, "then we'll check it out. Keep a lookout for it in the meantime."

Fix-It nodded. "Yes, sir."

An hour went by uneventfully. Just at the end of the second hour, when the clouds had mostly passed by, the _Alchemor_ pinged again. The signal had changed position somewhat and was moving much more quickly, but it wasn't straying very far from where it was. Fix-It dared read the behavior as cautious. Whatever was making the signal didn't seem too keen to run off blindly. He didn't want to say "scouting" but...

"Sir!" he called.

Bumblebee came running over. "It's back?"

Fix-It pointed. Bumblebee leaned over and into the command center for a better look.

"Strongarm! Sideswipe! With me!" the yellow mech called.

"Finally!" cried Sideswipe as he raced out of one of the isles.

Sideswipe was quick to fall in line with him at the gate. Strongarm was a little slower; she gathered a data file on the strange signal to analyze upon passing Fix-It's command center. Grimlock trailed in after them both, curious over what had called the others in. Once he saw the other two 'bots lined up at the gate, he put two and two together pretty quickly.

"Need me to hold the fort with tiny, then?" the Dinobot guessed.

Bumblebee nodded. "I'll have Fix-It send you out if we need backup. I hope we don't but considering how weird and crazy everything's been lately..."

Grimlock nodded. "I gotcha covered. No one's getting past me!" he declared, pounding his fists together.

The yellow mech gave the burly Dinobot a grateful grin. "I'll hold you to that."

Bumblebee shifted down to vehicle mode as the gate grumbled open. With Sideswipe and Strongarm in tow, they headed out to start their reconnaissance.

* * *

By the time they reached the signal's location, the sky above them was dark enough that stars were just beginning to peep out of hiding. The terrain was damp and muddy, while a wet, muggy smell hung in the cool air. Among the tall grass flickered little hordes of fireflies.

"I don't see anything," said Sideswipe. "Are we sure Fix-It's not just bored and imagining stuff?"

Bumblebee crouched down and squinted as he looked around. He had to agree with Sideswipe: he didn't see any signs of anyone having been in the area. No flattened grass, no skids or tire ruts in the wet dirt. Those indicators were always easiest to see after a storm. To him, that said the signal might be that of a flier, either a piloted drone of some kind or an actual 'bot. But on looking up and straining his audials, he couldn't hear the roar of an engine. The sky was quiet.

"You two hang back here," he ordered slowly. "I'll look around."

He sprinted off and was soon out of sight.

"Pfft. Like I said, Fix-It's imagining stuff," Sideswipe huffed, annoyed and bored. "Nothing's out here."

Strongarm looked up. After a few minutes, she squinted. One of the stars above had briefly disappeared for a fraction of a klik. It wasn't just her optics betraying her either, because it happened again farther to the west, then the south, then the east. Whatever it was, it seemed to be looping around way, _way_ above them – easily over a kilometer high in the sky.

"...Something's up there," she muttered.

The cadet hefted her crossbow. Once the whatever-it-was had started another loop, she fired off a single warning shot in front of it. To her surprise, the target let out a startled squawking keen sort of like a cross between a crow and some sort of raptor-bird. Switching to thermal did briefly confirm it bore the shape of a hawk, but it was too high up to get a good look at it before it flew off.

"A bird. Wow. So mysterious," deadpanned Sideswipe.

"Sideswipe, hawks aren't supposed to be nocturnal," she argued warily.

Out of nowhere, a loud sound like a rifle shot made them both flinch.

"What was that?"

_SHRRNG!_

Strongarm gasped as sharp pain exploded on her cheek. When her hand went up to touch the area, the tips of her digits had fresh blue stains. The wound itself felt like three distinct, tiny gashes.

" _Woah!_ What the heck?! What just happened?" gawked Sideswipe. "I didn't even see you get hit!"

[Strongarm? What's going on over there?] Bumblebee demanded. [I heard a bang!]

"We're under attack!" she reported.

[Hold on! I'm coming!]

_Scree!_

Something rammed into her with enough force to stagger her back. It felt like...feet?

Sounds of transformation came a split second after the hit. By the time she recovered, she stared, shocked. Standing nearby, armed with a sword and a buckler shield, was a little mini-con femme colored the same hue as the night sky, covered in little diodes that could pass perfectly for stars. What was more, the mini-con had some of the tell-tale aesthetic marks that signaled a Predacon model, including talons for feet and a little fan-tail like a half-skirt behind her. An Avioid Predacon, she realized.

"What the frack is your problem, lady?!" the mini-con femme barked in a raucous voice. "I didn't _do_ anything to you!

"What the – _Zodiac?!_ " cried Bumblebee.

The mini-con beast spun. Her jaw dropped when he she saw him. "' _Bee?!_ "

"What are you doing here?!" they both demanded of each other in unison.

Zodiac put her weapons away before throwing her arms up in exasperation. "Looking for you, you overripe plantain!"

Bumblebee cracked a grin. "Nice to see you, too, disco-ball! But why'd you hit Strongarm?" the yellow mech added.

"She fired first!" the mini-con protested, stamping one foot, only for her temper to almost instantly vanish. "Also I, ah, heh, didn't know that was Strongarm..."

Strongarm glowered down at her. Had she not noticed the Guard insignia on her? It wasn't exactly hard to spot.

"...Sorry," the little beast squeaked. "But I would have if you'd given me a little more time to observe! They sent me out to scout! Can't ever beat an Avioid's eyesight!"

"Yeah, apparently you can if someone shoots at you," Sideswipe teased.

Zodiac made a face and stuck her little glossa out at him. "I take it that's the civilian?" she asked Strongarm.

"The 'civilian' has a name, feather-brain," Sideswipe made a face and stuck on his glossa in turn.

Zodiac didn't respond instantly to him. There was a few seconds pause before she turned to him again and asked casually: "Hm? Did somebody say something?"

Sideswipe growled. Strongarm could almost feel the temperature rise in the air around him. Zodiac earned some respect from her in that instant: trolling Sideswipe back was not something the cadet had thought was appropriate, but the little Avioid apparently had no such professional reservations. Strongarm secretly admired her for that.

"Hey, cool it, you two," ordered Bumblebee, when the heated stares got a little too intense.

Both 'bots glowered at each other. Then, in unison, they turned away from one another in a huff.

"You said 'they' sent you to scout?" repeated Strongarm. "Who're they?"

Zodiac cheered back up. "Oh! Yeah, yeah! C'mere! Follow me!"

The mini-beast jumped, reverted to bird form – which did indeed resemble a hawk of some kind, save for an arc of metal on her head like a human helmet plume – and flew off over the trees. Bumblebee took off after her, leaving her and Sideswipe to sprint to catch up. Eventually, legs gave way to wheels to keep up with the speedy Avioid.

"We're well out of scanning range, sir..." Strongarm observed warily.

"Zoe's a CERF captain," Bumblebee clarified quickly. "Friend of a friend, too. She's legit. You can trust her – even if she did give you a few cuts."

* _We have a medic with us. She can tend to them,_ * chirped Zodiac via short-band overhead. * _Sorry again._ *

"She?" he repeated, surprised.

* _What, were you expecting a he?_ *

"Uh. I mean. Kinda? Sorta? ...Yes?"

Zodiac gave a short, quick caw that Bumblebee knew to be a laugh. He'd be in for a big surprise, she warned. The people who'd joined up with her to hunt him down were not the ones he was probably expecting, save for one of them. And...she definitely wasn't wrong. When she led them into a clearing, there stood six 'bots, only two of whom bore any familiarity to him: Charity and a massively familiar blue meh beside her. His blue was a brighter, cheerier blue than Zoe's mysterious blue-ish black.

"Smoke!"

"Hey, you're alive!" cheered Smokescreen. "Good! I would've been mad if you weren't!"

Grinning, they both shared a fist-bump.

"I thought you'd be here, if Zoe was," Bumblebee admitted slyly.

Laughing, Smokescreen held a clenched fist up, which Zodiac perched on. Zodiac chirped at Charity, who went over to get a better look at Strongarm's face cuts. Her treatment came promptly, and only required a little heat from an ion torch and some ani-mesh to span the tiny gaps. Bumblebee admitted himself impressed. Neither Knockout nor Smokescreen had been exaggerating about her. Careful, kind, and professional – a dream combo.

"What're you doing out here though?" Smokescreen asked him.

Bumblebee leaned back a little. "Ahhh...okay, let me say this right now: I am _not crazy_. I wanna make that a hundred percent clear before I say anything."

Smokescreen and Zodiac both tilted their heads to the side in perfect unison.

"I wasn't gonna say you were crazy," argued Smokescreen. "Magnus didn't think you were crazy either, for the record."

The yellow mech sighed. Might as well just get it out then. What started out as a calm, albeit slow and awkward explanation, soon devolved into a near ramble of everything that had happened afterward. He finished, panting, feeling like his head was ten seconds from bailing off his shoulders and running away.

"I'm not crazy, am I? Am I going crazy?" he demanded anxiously. "I'm seeing _ghosts_ in _mirrors_ for crying out loud!"

"You're not crazy," assured Charity. "He showed up for me, just not in a mirror. He was there, in the room with me."

"Me too!" chirped the fiery two-wheeler, Backdraft. "I nearly ran the guy over! On the road, I mean. He wasn't in a room."

Some of the stress building inside him deflated. "What?"

"So either all three of you have collectively lost your minds or you're _not_ crazy and this is instead some sort of bizarre supernatural phenomenon," the tall golden mech of the group argued. "I'm voting for the latter because I've _never_ heard of collective hallucinations. Ever. At all. And they can't be collective either because each of you had differing interactions. Backdraft's was curt and quick, Charity's was an explicit order to go help, and yours was an explicit order to investigate a disturbance here, which turned out to be the _Alchemor_ 's recent crash. Is that correct?"

"Sorry, who're you?" asked Bumblebee.

The golden mech gave a friendly salute to him, "Counterforce, sir. Praxian Fifteenth Precinct."

Bumblebee shook his hand, "Nice to meet you, Counterforce."

"Likewise."

"So," Bumblebee said slowly, looking over the gathering, " _you're_ the help he sent?"

"Not what you were expecting?" laughed Smokescreen. "Yeah, same."

"Well, not all of are present," the deep blue mech, Windstorm, clarified. "Frostbite smelled something that he went to investigate. And detective Sentenza –"

Detective Sentenza? Bumblebee gasped internally. Optimus had sent Kaon's resident detective to assist? Having her on the roll call would _definitely_ help. Some of the convicts, according to their files, had been apprehended _by her_. Thunderhoof was by far the biggest hunting trophy on her metaphorical wall. Sentenza's name had been all over the news the day she'd booked him, because when Thunderhoof had gone down, dozens of other people involved with him had gone down too, like Sentenza had collapsed the world's craziest criminal Jenga tower.

Windstorm looked around after a moment or two, confused. "...Where is Sentenza?"

"Sen?" called Counterforce. "Sen!"

"Where'd she go?" Charity demanded. "She was here just a second ago."

To his surprise, Counterforce eyed the dark, moonless sky above with a sudden, newfound wariness.

"Is something wrong?" wondered Strongarm.

"We need to find her. Quick." There was urgency in his tone that felt at odds with the seemingly inconsequential task.

"Why? Is she in danger?" demanded Smokescreen.

"No. _They_ are," Counterforce clarified grimly. "The convicts."

"Danger of being arrested, sure," said Sideswipe dismissively, "but that's kind of –"

"No," he retorted quickly. "They're in danger of being _killed_."

"What?" gasped Bumblebee. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll explain later. Just help me find her!"

"Zoe!" cried Smokescreen.

"On it!"

Zodiac was launched into the air falconer style. Counterforce warned her not to rely on her sight, because Sentenza was a outfitted with a powerful cloaking field that even Zodiac's sharp vision wouldn't be able to spot in the dark. Finding her spark signal would be far easier. She couldn't have flown off either; he would have heard her do that. Sentenza was probably prowling around on the ground somewhere nearby, if he had to guess.

"Are there even any convicts nearby?" demanded Strongarm. "I'm not getting any signals on my scanners."

"True, but onboard scanners only have about a three to five klick range," Windstorm reminded her. "I've no doubt she has surpassed that distance by now."

Zodiac squawked when a signal then popped up on scanners then. She confirmed she could had caught movement to the north of them, right on the edge of the range. But when everyone tried to race off in that direction, Counterforce told them to stop. In the state Sentenza was in right now, a large group descending on her would only make her worse.

"State?" repeated Charity.

"I'll explain once we stop her!"

"With me," Bumblebee urged him and Smokescreen. "Everyone else, hang back."

All three mechs stormed towards the signal. About halfway there, they nearly barreled into another vehicle that had been sent flipping by a powerful sideways hit. One transformation later revealed Steeljaw, and for once he had a genuinely panicked look on his face. The moment he them, he lunged and grabbed Bumblebee, twisting his hands behind his back and putting a clawed hand up against his throat.

"Stay back or he gets it!" he warned, but not at them.

Something slammed into Steeljaw's face and sent him reeling; whatever it was left a nasty dent on his cheek. He had no time to rise before a loud clang saw him pinned him to the ground. An ominous snappling sound came from near his neck.

"Stop it! It's trying to kill me!" he pleaded.

"Sen, stop!" barked Counterforce.

The Praxian held out one hand and from it a bright burst of gold light exploded, temporarily illuminating the clearing as if it were sunrise. A loud hiss met the attack, and from atop Steeljaw Sentenza, red-eyed, staggered off with a double bladed scythe in her grasp. She tried to leap at them, but another golden burst stopped her. She was left standing in place, snarling, apparently unable to see, which allowed Counterforce to lunge at her, spin behind her to grab the scythe from her, and clap a pair of cuffs around her wrists. He then held a brilliantly glowing hand up to her that, for reasons Bumblebee didn't understand, now seemed to calm her instead of agitate her. Her optics brightened to an orange hue.

Counterforce quickly tossed the scythe over to Bumblebee, though he felt he'd been tossed a live grenade.

"Thanks," Sentenza shakily rasped. "Please don't take them off..."

"I wasn't planning to," the Praxian assured her.

Steeljaw lay where he was, wide-eyed. " _You..._ " he gawked.

Sentenza's optics briefly snapped back to red when she growled at him, a sound more like a feral beast than a machine. Steeljaw scrambled away from her.

"Okay, _what_ is going on?" demanded Bumblebee. "What was _that_?!"

"Nightdemon," gasped Steeljaw. "You're the Nightdemon of Kaon...!"

In a whirl, the lavender mech transformed and sped off. Sentenza's optics went red again. She tried to run after him; Counterforce held her firm.

"Is there a safe place around here where I can keep an eye on her till morning?" he asked him.

"Uh, back where we're based," Bumblebee told him, confused and flustered. "But is it safe to be bringing her around other people right now?"

"So long as you're not an accredited criminal, yes."

Though wary, Bumblebee led Smokescreen, Counterforce, and Sentenza back to the group. From there, he opened a line back to the scrapyard: "Fix-It? We found the signal – actually, signals. Could we get a 'bridge back?"

" _Ahh...could you give me a_ _minute?_ " an incredibly nervous sounding Fix-It whispered. " _We, ah, we have something of a situation here..._ "

* * *

The spark signal looped 'round and 'round the cement walls, a path unnerving in its consistency. Not having Grimlock closer at hand was equally unnerving even though Fix-It had intentionally placed him near the pods for strategic reasons, but he didn't dare call him in too soon. If the _Alchemor_ couldn't identity the signal, that was a sure sign not to take any chances.

Suddenly, a loud " _woooooooo!_ " met their ears: the howl of a wolf. But it wasn't like any wolf howl that Denny or Russell had ever heard – it was too perfectly musical.

Seconds later, a massive shimmering white form leapt over the closed front gates: a massive, white Canipid Predacon, as big and intimidating as Grimlock's dino mode, from whose mouth dropped two unnervingly large saber teeth. Denny and Russell, hunkered down near the sofa, yelped and ducked when it spotted them. The pale beast gave a curious sounding _hruff_ and trotted over to the sofa, prompting it to peep around the side. Denny and Russell quickly scrambled away.

"N-Nice monster dog..." stammered Denny.

Another _hruff_ and the Canipid sat back on its haunches. While Denny was still frozen in mute terror, Russell was observant.

"You're not attacking. Why are you not attacking?" the boy asked.

The Canipid's ears pinned back before it looked down at its chest. Russell jolted. There was some kind of symbol there: a scary, snarling beast face that he hadn't seen before.

"Fix-It?" called Russell. "He's got some sort of badge on him. Do you recognize it?"

Fix-It tensed as the hound trotted over to the command center, and he nearly yelped and ducked when the beast reared up to put their forelegs up on the dash. The pale beast whined and looked down at its chest again. Once Fix-It worked the nerve to look, his slight panic disappeared. He knew that snarling, primal visage just as well as he did Autobot or Decepticon.

"Oh. _OH!_ " he exclaimed, and then craned his neck around to view the commons. "There's no need for alarm. This is a Well Guardian!"

Denny and Russell eyed each other. Then they eyed Fix-It. He could see the question in their eyes.

"One of the many Predacon tribes back on Cybertron. They are exclusively tasked with defending the Well of Allsparks, hence their tribe name," explained Fix-It.

"So...he's a good guy?" hazarded Denny.

"Most definitely!" smiled Fix-It.

The pale beast, quite happy with his words, gently bumped him with his snout before falling back down onto all fours and making for Denny and Russell a second time. Fix-It, now curious, followed him over.

"So do you have a name?" Russell asked their guest.

Russell gave a little jump when the beast leaned in to snuff at his side pocket. A buzz from his smartphone prompted him to take it out. On it, he found a text from a long, complicated number that simply read: _Frostbite._

"Frostbite?" he repeated.

 _Hruff_ the hound answered.

"Oh! Oh, your name!" he realized. "Your name is Frostbite!"

A much louder, happier _hruff_ was his answer.

"Uh, do I need to get my gloves?" Denny wondered nervously.

Fix-It nearly chuckled at Frostbite's deadpanning look at the man. In answer, Frostbite's maw yawned open to showcase his massive saber fangs, each about as long as Denny was tall. Denny understandably blanched at seeing them up close, but Russell was fascinated upon seeing something drip from their tips: some kind of clear fluid that steamed a little when it dripped to the ground.

"Hey you guys where'd that howl go-WOAH! _Back off, mutt!_ " thundered Grimlock. "Those guys aren't snacks!"

Roaring, the Dinobot came storming forward.

Russell spun in tandem with Frostbite. "No, no, no! Grimlock! Don't! It's –!"

Too late. Frostbite took the challenge. He whirled at Grimlock, made to leap leap – but the leap was a feign. He instead lunged far down for the Dinobot's legs, maw open wide, and skidded past him. His fangs caught on Grimlock's leg, and the poor mech was floored face-first in a resounding crash. Frostbite then backed off, snarling.

When Grimlock tried to get up, panic warped his face.

"Ah! My legs! Fix-It, I can't move my legs! I can't _feel_ my legs!" he cried. "What did you do to me?!"

Frostbite silently pinned his ears back, gaze fixed on Grimlock's legs. Fix-It noticed two splotches in Grimlock's legs then, filled up with an icy substance. An analysis of it revealed it was liquid nitrogen mixed with a few other super-cold liquids.

"Cold-induced shut-down of the nervous system, it looks like," he told him calmly.

Grimlock's ensuing frightened look forced him to clarify that such paralysis was temporary. In fact, cold-induced shut-downs were often used in medicine to reduce pain.

"Uh, how long is temporary?" the Dinobot wondered.

Russell's phone buzzed again. Another text from Frostbite read: _2-3 breems._ According to Fix-It, that was roughly eighteen to twenty-five minutes Earth time. Grimlock, of course, wasn't thrilled about being paralyzed for half an hour and offered Frostbite a stink-eye for trapping him on the ground. Frostbite did not retort. He merely rose and began to breathe warm air onto the puncture wounds, which triggered sublimation of the frozen gases. Any resulting ice-melt was licked off.

"That might be the strangest thing I've seen all day," chuckled Denny. "A giant robot wolf licking a paralyzed robot T-Rex."

"It's even weirder when you say it out loud like that," laughed Russell.

Frostbite looked at him briefly and then returned to his task.

Grimlock giggled after a moment or two. "No! Quit it! Stop! That tickles!"

"You're speeding up his recovery time by altering temperature," observed Fix-It. "How clever!"

"I can help! Let me go get my blow dryer!" offered Russell, who sprinted off to grab the item.

"Woah, hold on there! Where do you plan to plug it in?" his father laughed.

Russell skidded to a stop. "Oh."

Fix-It left the hound to his task and wheeled over to the command center. From there, he apologized to the away team for the wait, used their offered coordinates, and opened a groundbridge. He was expecting only the away team to return. Instead, they had brought company – and, to be frank, it was not the sort of company he would have expected. There was only one Elite Guard among them: Lieutenant Smokescreen, one of Ultra Magnus's second-in-command. The others Bumblebee introduced in turn: Counterforce, Sentenza (who, bizarrely, was cuffed), Charity, Zodiac, Backdraft and Windstorm.

" _Windstorm?_ " he gasped. "What – what is _Windstorm_ doing here?!"

Windstorm in turn gasped at the state of the _Alchemor_ 's command center. "By Quintus, what _happened_?! Where's the rest of the ship?!"

Fix-It faltered. "Uh...heh, that's a funny story, actually. You see –"

The engineer rushed over, right past Fix-It, and proceeded to put the center under intense scrutiny, all the while muttering rapidly to himself. Fix-It was too flustered and amazed to even be mad about the mech ignoring him. His wish for a skilled repairbot appeared to have been answered in spectacular fashion. If anyone could get the _Alchemor_ into a truly serviceable state the way it was now – or uncover the cause of the crash – Windstorm could.

"I think I see why _he's_ here now," laughed Charity.

Before they knew it, Windstorm had clambered up onto the command center's canopy. Another terse gasp met them. Windstorm's head popped over the rim to look down at him.

"You do realize there is _exposed wiring_ up here, yes?" he asked.

"Oh, is _that_ what's been causing the shorts during heavy rain?"

Windstorm didn't bother answering back. His head whipped back up and soon enough the sounds of wire soldering arrived. Unfortunately, the poor engineer must have been flustered or over-zealous, because he soon yelped when a loud _bzzzZZZZTTT!_ sent him tumbling down from the sloped canopy. Smoke wafted up from his twitching right hand. The poor 'bot let out a whimpering sort of groan.

Sideswipe bit back a shocked laugh at the sight.

"Is he okay?!" demanded Denny.

Charity checked him. "He'll be alright. Just stunned. The voltage wasn't high enough to hurt him."

"I take it you're a doctor, then?" guessed Fix-It.

"Not fully certified yet," she admitted through a smile, "but I'm getting there."

She brought a piece of rubber out of her kit, wrapped it around her hand, and touched him. Electricity discharged harmlessly. She then helped Windstorm sit up.

"This is precisely why calm is necessary for ship repairs," groaned Windstorm ruefully. "You never did answer my question, mini-con. Where is the rest of the _Alchemor?_ "

Rather shyly, Fix-It admitted he had no idea. The ship had fallen out of orbit inexplicably; when he'd come to after the crash, he had been on the ground with the section he saw in front of him. That implied the ship had broken into two or more segments, possibly during atmospheric entry. He'd tried scanning for the other segments to no avail.

"Add task: create debris scatter field simulation to retroactively determine crash trajectory..." muttered Windstorm.

To Bumblebee's amusement the mech matched word to action, adding the assignment to a literal holographic "To-Do" list conjured up from his palm. He respected him for that approach, and he suspected Optimus had selected him for exactly that reason. Windstorm was insanely methodical about his work, and judging by the still-growing list, he was going to busy. Already he was at twenty-two tasks, and he didn't look close to stopping or even slowing down as he wandered off. He made a mental note to remind the engineer that it would be okay to take a break if he wanted to, just so he didn't overwork himself.

He leaned back and hemmed. Medic. Law officer. Detective. Star-ship engineer. Well Guardian and, in turned out, part-time rescue worker. Those all had practical applications to the situation. Optimus certainly hadn't skimped in providing highly tailored help. Maybe that was why he hadn't sent his old team mates. 

"Why is Zodiac here then?" wondered Fix-It.

"I mean, she is _velcet-gih_ , so that'll be handy," shrugged Smokescreen.

" _Oh come on!_ " cried Sideswipe in angry despair. "The _bird_ gets to be speed-gifted and not _me?!_ How the scrap is _that_ fair?!"

Zodiac stuck her glossa out at him.

"If you keep sticking that thing out at him I'll grab it," Smokescreen playfully warned her.

"I'm thinking it's because she uses it as a tool instead of showing off?" hazarded Strongarm dryly.

Sideswipe pouted, "I wasn't asking _you_ , buzzkill."

Strongarm offered him a knowingly smug smile. "You're _jealous_ , aren't you?"

Sideswipe's pout only became more pronounced.

"I'd prefer not to fight, if it's all the same to you guys," squeaked the tiny Avioid. "I'm better with my head than my claws."

Strongarm personally disagreed. Being on the receiving end of both speed and claw told her Zodiac was a pretty good fighter.

"I won't make you fight, Zoe. I promise. I know you don't like it," Bumblebee assured gently. "Here, I'll shake on it. No fighting unless you personally decide to. Deal?"

He held out a hand which Zodiac shook with her own tiny one. "Deal. Thanks, 'Bee."

And then it was Backdraft's turn to undergo curious scrutiny.

"I still don't get why he approached you," admitted Smokescreen. "Why are _you_ here exactly?"

Backdraft flung his arms up. "I dunno, mate! He just told me to go to Iacon! It's not like he asked me for my resume or anything!"

"Well, maybe a resume might help figure out why he picked you to come," mused Fix-It. "Is there anything in particular that's…different about you? Any special talent perhaps?"

"I mean…I got flame-throwers," answered Backdraft, holding his arms up to show the cannon-like spouts on his lower arms.

"Useful, albeit dangerous on a planet where most everything is flammable. Anything else?"

Backdraft frowned and thought for a few moments, pacing to and fro, in total silence. Then, mid-step, Bumblebee swore he saw a bright spark go off in his fiery amber optics.

"Okay, okay, okay, so this might be a bit 'out there' as theories go, but…maybe he sent me 'cause I'm an _a'almvus_?"

"A what?" Russell asked.

An immediate answer was cut off when Sideswipe, with an almost reverential gasp, fell to his knee pikes in front of Backdraft like a martial arts student kneeling in front of their master. His wide blue optics looked more akin to those of a begging puppy than a 'bot.

"Teach me," he begged. "Please, please, please!"

Backdraft didn't quite know what to make of Sideswipe's reaction at first. Eventually, he laughed – a bright, cheerful laugh that said he was very much in on the joke while being wildly entertained at Sideswipe's behavior. Backdraft offered hand to help him back up and grinning, offered him a friendly fist-bump that the red mech happily returned.

"Oh, great…" grumbled Strongarm. "One of _those..._ "

"What's an aye-alm-vos - did I say that right?" Denny demanded.

"An _a'almvus_ \- you actually did pronounce that correctly - or _a'almvi_ , which is the plural form - are followers of the First-Forged Shifter, Amalgamous Prime, one of the original Thirteen Primes," explained Bumblebee. "Legends tell he was a jovial, good-natured prankster and so, unsurprisingly, his followers are of a similar bent. They're also, no exaggeration, some of the nicest people you will ever have the pleasure to meet on Cybertron. They're playful beams of sunshine, really."

"Awww," smiled Backdraft. "Thank you for the compliment."

"They're also, like, the _gods_ of practical jokes!" squealed a delighted Sideswipe.

"Ha! He is, for sure! I'm more like one of his many prank elves!" winked Backdraft back.

Fix-It confessed he didn't see the practical application of sending an _a'almvus_ to help.

"No, no. I think I might understand why," Charity said slowly. "You're really deep in scrap here. Outnumbered. Outgunned. Handicapped due to lack of resources and tech. That's why you requested help, isn't it?"

"Yeah. That about sums it up," frowned Bumblebee.

"Exactly. In dire situations like this, cheerful optimism is just as valuable a resource as Energon or repair supplies. I remember Knockout mentioning something about humans having people called 'morale soldiers' to keep the spirits of the troops up. That not only helps with unit cohesion, it helps the troops keep going even in bleak times. Cheering people up is part of the Shifter's Doctrine, right?"

"Yup!" grinned Backdraft. "We enjoy our lives, and we make sure others do, too!"

"Optimus sent you a Prime-endorsed morale soldier," smiled Counterforce. "That's pretty practical in the long run."

Backdraft titled his head to the side. "I wonder why he picked me then? I'm not the only _a'almvus_ out there. There're loads of us! Me, Hijinks, Skylark, Punchline..."

"Probably because you're armed," guessed Smokescreen.

Backdraft laughed, "I don't use 'em as weapons but, sure, I can use 'em that way if I need to!"

"You _will_ need to," warned Bumblebee grimly. "But in the meantime, if you're all staying to help, then you'll need some vehicle disguises. Denny's got a good selection in back."

"Well, for most of them. I don't exactly have any planes or jets lying around here for you, Sentenza," he told her frankly, "but there is an airport and an Air Force base nearby you could check out. They'll probably have something for you."

Sentenza mutely nodded. Counterforce translated she would look the sites over come morning; she could cloak, there was no risk of any humans spotting her. What she needed right now was peace and quiet. And frankly, he'd join her. They'd both had a long journey to Iacon and needed some rest. He could get his disguise in the morning, too, if that was alright with him.

"That's fine. The rest of you, with me! C'mon!" the man waved.


End file.
